


Ludus

by I_Shouldnt_Be_Here



Series: Love is known as... [3]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Aman is frustrated, Author is plagued by self doubt, Based on the types of love found in ancient Greek literature, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Is this sex?, Ludus means 'playful love', M/M, is this even romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/pseuds/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here
Summary: Aman comes back home from a disappointing office party. Kartik thinks that Aman shouldn't be allowed to wear anything else other than a three piece suit.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: Love is known as... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764058
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42





	Ludus

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy...?

“Party mei boss ke jootey chaatna bhi employer ke job profile mei likh dena chahiye.” Aman said distractedly, tugging at his black tie.

_ (Kissing the boss’s hemlines should be written down as a required skill in the job profile.) _

Kartik observed Aman, tugging at his collar with a sour face. He looked at his boyfriend in a two-piece-three-piece suit (the coveted third, the jacket, was draped carelessly over the sofa arm) and he couldn’t stop his pupils from dilating. A half smile tiptoed over his face as Aman struggled with the tie.

“Abey tie nahi phansi ka phanda hai yeh!” Aman was clearly struggling. The pitch and volume of his voice raised.

_ (It’s not a necktie it’s a goddamn noose!) _

“Help chahiye baby? Wo tie tere waistcoat ke andar phas gaya hai...” Kartik said. He knew Aman was hopeless when it came to ties. Kartik had made the knot himself, and now it seemed as if he would have to untie it too.

_ (You need help, baby? The tie is caught inside the waistcoat…) _

Kartik approached him with small, casual steps. He made sure to swing his hips a little but all of that went sorrowfully unseen. Aman still wrestled with his tie, probably transfiguring that harmless strip of fabric into his boss (and all of his enemies) in his mind.

“Calm down…” Kartik breathed out a raspy whisper. He took Aman’s hands into his own and held them for a fraction of a second before settling them on both sides of his waist.

Kartik trailed his hands down the smooth material of the waistcoat covering Aman’s chest before he reached the buttons. Aman’s breath stuttered. 

Kartik undid each button with a deliberate slowness, enjoying the closeness of his boyfriend. 

On other days, Aman would have brushed off his boyfriend’s attempts at flirting with a nervous laugh and a snarky comment. Kartik anticipated the moment Aman would let out a laugh and push him away. Aman had no patience for these romance games, but Kartik was pleasantly surprised at his lack of resistance. Emboldened, he undid the last button and slid the waistcoat off Aman’s arms.

He slowly tugged at the tongue underneath the knot and made the loop larger until Aman finally passed it over his head and threw it down on the floor with a vengeance. Kartik observed him closely, his arms inadvertently placing themselves around Aman’s shoulders. He trailed his hands over the linen of Aman’s shirt. He liked its smooth texture but thought that Aman’s skin would feel  _ much _ better against his hands.

Kartik drank deeply from Aman’s eyes and saw that his pupils were similarly dilated. If working under abusive bosses had such results, he wouldn’t want Aman to leave his current nine to five at all. 

Meanwhile, Aman’s frustrations were being sublimated into other, erm,  _ lascivious  _ desires. The boss, the colleagues, wives, their snotty children and their absurdly small  _ small _ talk trickled out of his mind. 

The thick rind that forcefully grew between his _ inside _ and  _ outside _ , nurtured by his colleagues’ sneers at his bachelorhood on the outside and his own shame on the inside didn’t feel all that suffocating when he could just return to his flat to subject himself to a forceful fucking.

At least he had a sexy boyfriend to return home to. 

He felt his face being turned upward, a finger making its way discreetly underneath his chin. Apparently Kartik was of the same mind, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes told him that he would not be easily given what he wanted.

Aman shifted his view from the delicious curve of Kartik’s bicep peeking out from his tank top right into his eyes.

_ Out of the frying pan and into the fire.  _

His eyes had flickering flames burning behind them. Not enough to consume everything his lover offered him, but enough to turn the temperature up by  _ quite _ a few degrees.

"Bedroom?" He asked.

"Bedroom." Aman replied, one word breathing out all that he wanted to convey.

Aman felt himself being lifted by a pair of strong arms. He looped his arms around Kartik’s neck, being the pea to his arm-outlined pod. Kartik bent down to capture Aman’s lips in a kiss, but wobbled precariously in the process. Aman smirked, an inch away from Kartik’s lips. 

Even ‘luhar ke bete’ had limits to their strength.

Kartik took cautious steps to their bedroom, carrying Aman in his arms awkwardly. Kartik's ego was definitely too big to set down a currently giggling boyfriend. 

Aman dug his face in Kartik's chest, apparently not wanting to stare at a fall dead in the eyes. He giggled, a totally inappropriate response to what seemed like a romantic gesture from Kartik.

The thing was, he knew most of Kartik's tricks. How he would often pick him up and fail at carrying him, put a note in his lunchbox or randomly find chocolate in his bag or something. In the beginning when he started to date Kartik, all of that got his heart racing, but now he regarded those sweet gestures with mild amusement. 

Now, the feelings were of anticipation and _ relief  _ that he was the sole recipient of these gestures. And of a slight edge of terror, in case those tangible tokens of appreciation were found by his colleagues.

Aman stopped giggling and shook his head. Staying in the moment was something he always failed at. 

Kartik took him to the bedroom and dumped him on the bed, much like a sack of potatoes. He looked at Aman breathlessly, effort clearly showing in the laborious heaves of his chest. 

Aman stood up on tiptoe and caught Kartik’s lips in a kiss. He was parched, and Kartik’s lips were  _ respite _ . His shoulders relaxed, in a much-needed release of tension.

Kartik kissed him back with an animal-like ferocity, until he stopped. Aman let out a moan of displeasure.

“Itni kya jaldi hai, baby?” He whispered. Aman’s eyes closed and his neck turned limp immediately in response to Kartik’s breath fanning a sensitive spot behind his ear. Kartik grabbed the opportunity to brush his lips against that very spot for a split second.

_ (What’s the hurry, baby?) _

A vivid touch-portrait of Aman’s neck area brushed against Kartik’s lips for that split second. The roughness of his hair, the musky-sweet smell of his shampoo, the soft skin below his ear leading to a prickly stubble at the base of his cheek, the sharp angle of his jawbone cloaked by a soft fold of skin, the cool, hard ring of metal hanging from his earlobe (a beautiful contrast), all these sensations almost overwhelmed the nerve endings of his lips. He could spend an hour mapping the geography of Aman’s face using his lips.

Kartik felt the stiff, starched collar of Aman’s shirt against his jaw.

His eyes closed and he kissed Aman’s cheekbones softly. His long eyelashes fluttered against Aman’s forehead.

He laid a gentle kiss on Aman’s lips, like a child laying the last shovel of sand on the top of a teetering sandcastle. Kartik let go before Aman got a chance to engage in the kiss completely.

Aman was surprised at Kartik’s sudden display of  _ fondness.  _ The flames of frustration inside him, aiming to unleash themselves in sexual release cooled just a little. He looked into Kartik’s eyes, finding them to be unbelievably  _ warm. _

He held Aman’s hand gently, shot him a coquettish smile and led out of the bedroom. His thumb rubbed careless semi circles onto the soft, veiny skin of Aman’s wrist.

“Balcony mein? Kyun?” Aman replied with a disgruntled frown.

_ (In the balcony? Why?) _

“‘Kyun’ ka jawaab mere paas nahi hai.” Kartik breathed into Aman’s ear and kissed his collarbone, gently undoing the first three buttons of his shirt. Kartik now felt fabric brushing against his lips.

_ (I don’t know the answer to ‘why’.) _

Kartik rested there for a small while, hands off Aman, yearning to touch him. He said ‘May I?’ with his eyes and a small tilt of his eyelids but Aman failed to understand. 

All he saw was Kartik playfully but treacherously poking at the thick rind which grew between their inside and outside world. Aman stood there, a little bewildered. 

The network of nerves in his chest and stomach tightened, like a tuned instrument ready to play a composition, or anticipating a wrongly hit note which would send the whole  _ mehfil _ crashing down.

“Hum dono twentieth floor par rehte hai.” 

After those words, it took awhile for the adrenaline in Aman’s body to kick in, that exact chemical which did not know the difference between  _ thrill  _ and  _ scandal.  _ All he wanted right now was for Kartik to take him, to take him so deeply that he forgot himself. 

Kartik slowly undid all the buttons of Aman’s shirt, laying a kiss each time new skin was exposed. 

“I want to touch you here.” 

“And here”

“And especially  _ here. _ ” 

Kartik trailed his hand down the rise of Aman’s collarbone, swaying to the side at his chest and finally stopping at his crotch. But he left a tantalising millimeter of space between his hand and Aman’s body and lovingly held the air draping those curves as if it was tangible.

Aman’s dick hardened, but the balcony suddenly seemed far less appealing to him.

He smiled, and grasped Kartik’s hand. He led him inside, and closed the curtains of the balcony with his other hand. Kartik pouted.

Inside the room, he took his shirt off and hurriedly threw it on the bed. He walked closer to Kartik, swinging his hips.

He held Kartik’s hand and placed it over the warm skin of his chest. 

“Toh chhu na. Please.” Aman spit the words out, almost in frustration.

_ (Then touch me. Please.) _

_... _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not happy with this. The entire process of writing this work can be summarised in three steps. Number one, fanning my face, number two, erupting in shame-giggles, number three, complaining about my utter incompetence to write romance to Monamoni. *Thanks for coming to my not-a-TED-Talk TED talk*  
> Anyway, had an awful number of successive headaches and an horrible sneezing allergy which made me panic because *coronavirus*
> 
> Ludus means the 'playful' sort of love. I don't know whether I could capture that spirit in this work. I'll let you decide. Though I did dance (horribly) to 'Banno tera swagger laage sexy' quite a few times to get into the mood of writing this haha...  
> Show this one some love, okay?
> 
> Have a good day/night!  
> Kudos and comments make my day!  
> -Advaita


End file.
